


Combustion

by Pineapples_And_Peaches



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Awkward Crush, Awkwardness, Bad Cooking, Bisexual Lance (Voltron), Dancer Lance (Voltron), F/M, First Dates, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, Gay Keith (Voltron), M/M, Mechanic Keith (Voltron), Mild Language, Pining Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 21:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15615033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pineapples_And_Peaches/pseuds/Pineapples_And_Peaches
Summary: Lance attempts to make noodles and it goes horribly wrong.Keith 'can be your hero, baby's his way to Lance and is forced to confront his feelings.Romance and fluff follows.(Yeah, I know it sounds weird. Don't judge me.)





	Combustion

**Author's Note:**

> This is based off of the writing prompt:  
> "It started with a fire, which a lot of things do. Not usually a microwave, but still."
> 
> I wrote the first chapter for this one out on paper before typing it up which took forever and now I'm dead.
> 
> Please leave support in the comments as well as possible suggestions for where this could go because, per usual, I have no clue.
> 
> I see a lot of people write Lance as the one who begs to get noticed by Keith so I wanted to give an example of the roles being reversed. I hope you enjoy xxx

It started with a fire, which a lot of things do. Not usually a microwave, but still.

Lance was home alone, which was probably enough of an explanation within itself. Being home alone, obviously, Lance's best friend, Hunk (future Gordon Ramsay of their generation) wasn't present to stop Lance from his valiant attempt at cooking. (Neither was his other roommate, Pidge, although she would've probably just filmed it.)

It wasn't even anything big.

Noodles.

N o o d l e s.

Lance had read the packet of ready noodles over and over religiously, he didn't throw it away until he was sure about everything. He broke up the noodles, boiled the kettle, poured in the chicken favouring and hot water, given it a little poke with a fork out of curiosity, and then put it in the microwave.

By the time he'd turned on the microwave, Lance was feeling undeniably smug. I mean sure it was just some noodles thrown in a microwave, but they were Lance's noodles! He could see himself on Master chef already. Or Hell's kitchen.  
Then again, maybe not. 

Lance, Hunk and their friend Pidge all shared a small rented house on the outskirts of the old town that they all attended university at. They split their rent perfectly in three but were always reluctantly willing to support anyone slightly behind. Reluctant only applied to Lance and Pidge really, anyone would be happy to help Hunk, that was just how it was.

Speaking of Hunk...  
Lance smirked but it sort of melted into a small smile as he recalled his friend's previous excitement towards today. Lance felt his chest swell with pride at the thought.

Because, ladies and gentlemen, Hunk was on a date with the girl of his dreams, and what those two had was romantic movie worthy.

Hunk, the gentle giant made of husband material, hugs and unconditional compassion. A baker in a small town, balancing work at his parent's bakery and college is asked to make a wedding cake for a sweet new couple, Allura and Shiro, friends of the three roommates who have finally decided to tie the knot. After discussing the designs, the choice is made and Hunk leaves with satisfaction, ready to go home to Lance and see his friend's joyful reaction to the news. However, on the way out he (quite literally) bumps into the dress designer.

The designer's name is Shay, a beautiful, curvy girl with smiling eyes and soft hands. Her emerald eyes, questionably- large hoop earrings and mood-lifting atmosphere had captured Hunk's warm heart in one fell swoop.  
And Hunk had finally asked her on a date.

Lance flopped back on his bed, he knew he only had a few more minutes before he got to gloat in his first successful cheffing experience. He stared up at the stars on his ceiling and they stared back at his lanky form. His hair was nearly straightened and his tank top had 'Uh huh honey' printed across it's blue surface in white. Tiny short-shorts showed off his fabulous legs, recently shaved and glorious as ever. He many a man and woman alike praise his excellent legs. There was one of Pidge's longer hairs on his legs and he reached down and pulled it off. Sticking his tongue out and making a face as he dropped it off to the side.

And that is when the fire alarm went off.

Lance shot out of bed as he heard the sprinklers activate, without a second thought he rushed into the kitchen.

 

//

 

Keith was also alone. But, unlike Lance, that wasn't anything new. Keith had inherited his parents money once he reached 18. With that to lean back on as well as his job as a mechanic and general handy man he was able to afford a small house on the outside of town that he attended university at.  
The very same university as Lance, Hunk and Pidge.  
And, for the purpose of this story and the universe's own entertainment, Keith's house was the terraced house next to Lance.

The universe was laughing at Keith.  
Because not only was the most beautiful boy in the entire town (and general 100 mile vicinity) in several of his classes. Not only did said boy live right next to him. But, as the icing on the cake of misery, Lance did not know who Keith was.  
They got on the same bus every moring for school or work.  
Keith only ever even took the bus to see Lance, although he told himself that it was to save money for fuel on his motorbike.

And you want to know something funny?  
Something downright fucking hilarious?

They had never had a conversation.

Keith wanted to hit himself whenever he thought about it.

So imagine his surprised when he heard the tell-tale signs of trouble from behind the wall separating himself from the most complicated crush in the universe which just happened to be his.

Keith knew those noises.  
A fire alarm going mental and sprinklers automatically activating. Keith knew because he had done many repairs on both.

A shrill shriek rang out loudly. Keith knew that shriek. He had only ever heard one man scream with that high of a pitch.  
Fear flared through Keith and the sick feeling in his stomach was unbearable,  knowing that Lance was I'm that house, scared, alone, unconscious...

Keith was running out of his house before he could even pull on a t-shirt.

 

//

 

Lance was having a bad day.  
Once he reached the kitchen, stared at the combusting microwave in shock-horror. He couldn't even believe what was happening. The microwave, that was just out of reach of the sprinklers, sparked aggressively and Lance shrieked, pressing his soaked back against the wall across from the device in the narrow kitchen. It was clear that this building wasn't built Gordon Ramsay-like friends and exploding microwaves, Lance had skidded on the (wet) tiles so he was in the top-left corner of their rectangular kitchen.

The microwave, however, was in the bottom-right corner.  
Next to the door.

Lance had run straight passed it on his way in but there was no way he was going back.  
So...He just stood there, leaning as far away as he could and screaming like an alarm clock.

He only screamed louder when the hot, dripping, shirtless boy with a bad haircut barged in.

 

//

 

Like Keith had said before, he really wasn't thinking.  
Wasn't thinking when he left without shoes or a shirt.  
Wasn't thinking when he ran out of his own home and up the stairs to Lance's door.  
Wasn't thinking when he broke the door down.

However, when he reached the kitchen, sprinklers still running, it all caught up to him. Hitting him like a freight train.

'Oh God. I'm in his house, shirtless. I broke his door. He doesn't know who the fuck I am.'

All these thoughts though, completely dissipated when he pushed his gaze up until he was swimming in angelic pools of tropical seas.  
Because, for the first ever time, Lance was looking right at him. Finally noticing him. Holding him hostage with his awe-inspiring attention.

And that is when Lance screamed like he was a cat on an ironing board.

 

//

 

Lance couldn't decide which he should feel more threatened by.  
The sparking microwave or the shirtless stranger.  
He decided to make it fair by constantly switching between the two. Pointing and screaming and swearing like a sailor.

The microwave chose that exact moment to blow it's own door off it's hinges, and Lance decided which one was the most major threat as he scrambled as far as he could get away.  
The stranger flinched a little, much to Lance's annoyance.

After a moment of watching Lance scream, as if he were a marvellously entertaining zoo exhibit, the hot stranger reached down and grabbed the fire extinguisher. Blasting foam all over the counter and microwave that, finally, calmed it's flammable shit.

'Oh right. Fire extinguisher. Whoops.'

The fire was out now, the microwave just looked like it was submerged in a bubble bath. The fire alarm continued to beep but at least the fire was gone.

This was great news because it meant Lance only had to worry about the other 500 things happening right now.  
Namely, the soaking, hot shirtless, hideously hairstyled, absolute catch of a man who had apparently broken into his house to save him.

The man lowered the fire extinguisher.

Lance stopped screaming but didn't take his eyes off of him.  
Not that he really could anyway.

'Hot damn.'

Not only did this man have no shirt but also no shoes. He wore black, distressed skinny-jeans that looked like they deserved a MySpace page all to themselves. His body might as well be made out of marble, he was chiseled to perfection and it just kept getting better the more Lance looked. A broad, smooth chest guided Lance up to an elegant, unmarked neck at then up...

'Okay, wow.'

Once Lance locked his focus on the man's face he understands why the man hadn't changed his haircut. You could put a highlighter-yellow Edwardian wig for women on this man and still label him vogue worthy.  
A sharp chin, defined jawline with jet-black shoulder-length hair that was stuck flat to where light stubble spread evenly along his skin. The same stubble that surely should've been patchy if he wasn't a God. A strong but still graceful nose sloped up to meet dark, bushy eyebrows. And just bellow that, short eyelashes framed dark-grey eyes. The longer he stared into into his eyes, the harder it became to convince himself that he wasn't staring at the clouded night sky back in Cuba.

It was during Lance's world flipping upside down that the man turned awkwardly and hooked the fire extinguisher back into place.  
Then he turned to look back at Lance and cleared his throat, stepping forward and opening his mouth, ready to finally offer an explanation to this bizarre series of events.

And that is when Pidge walked in, I say walked, more like frantically scurried.

"Who the fuck broke the God damn door down?!" 

The fire alarm chose this moment to cool it's shit, leaving all three at the mercy of the crushing silence.

"Oh hey, it's the quiet kid from next door. Sup?"

 

//

 

Keith just about managed to tear his gaze away from Lance standing in front of him, in boxers, dripping wet. Lance with smooth, exposed legs... Keith also managed to stop himself from catching flies and sheepishly casts his eyes to the floor.  
He raised his hand nervously.  
He swallowed.  
"Sorry about the door."

You see, the door was locked, Keith wasn't thinking and Lance was crying for help. It was as if the door had insulted him by being in his way. At the time, he had no regrets about backing up and barreling through it.

Now however, he had several regrets. Demonstrated in is aching shoulder and Pidge's look of disbelief.

There was a minute of silence between them, the only noise was the water dripping off of surfaces and Keith and Lance.

"...Right. I'm going out then I guess." And with that Pidge shuffled out of the kitchen. Leaving Keith at the mercy of his personal, intense, pine-athalon that was Lance McClain.

Lance turned and looked him straight in the eye. Or 'gay' in the eye rather, especially due to the monologue in Keith's head which sounded something like this:  
'Oh God, his skin. His legs. Dripping. Wet. Oh my God. Stop staring. You're staring.'

The truth was that he was completely and utterly transfixed by Lance's legs. Well, legs and literally everything they were attached to. Unable to pull his eyes away from Lance where he stood in front of him, he simply trailed his eyes up until they met with the beautiful eyes of his seven-month-long crush, who he had never spoken to.

Until now.

"Hi," Keith almost leaped out of his skin when Lance took a step towards him, hand outstretched in an approaching handshake. "I'm Lance."

"I know." Muttered Keith which, for future reference, is not what you should say to a person who's never seen or talked to you before.

This fact was demonstrated by Lance's absolutely adorable look of confusion,  
"Huh?"

Oh boy, this is not what he had planned for today.

 

//

 

After actually introducing himself as 'Keith' and starting up a conversation, the two boys were sat next to each other at the breakfast bar, drip-drying.

To Keith's delight, Lance was every bit of incredible as he'd imagined him to be, and Keith sat leant over the counter, holding his chin in his hand as he came to a simple realization. Yes, Lance was everything Keith had wanted for ages now, but along with that was the dawning of the fact that Lance could do better.  
Keith felt like he was punching above his weight just being in the same room as him.

However, unbeknownst to Keith, Lance was having an internal crisis of his own. The cute boy (that he now recognized as the boy from their bus that Pidge always insisted was glancing at him) who went by the name of 'Keith', was hot.  
A crushing revelation, I know.  
Lance almost couldn't believe this hidden beauty had been living next door this whole time, not only that but he was SO Lance's type. How had he never started a conversation with a man this unreal?

"-so yeah, I think I might actually be able to repair your microwave for free instead of you going out and getting a new one. I mean, it might take a while since the door flew off..."

Lance zoned back in as Keith trailed off. A warm smile took over Lance's face at the offer.

"Seriously? Yeah man, that would be incredible! You don't have to do that."

Keith smiled shyly, hair falling to frame his face as he leant forward.

"No problem," he muttered, "What were you even trying to cook? If you could even call it 'cooking' when all you're doing is sticking it in a microwave." He smirked devilishly at Lance, who melted a little, "even then you still set it on fire, you didn't even do anything. It's like the universe is telling you to never cook for real." 

Lance was taken-aback, "Keith, how could you? I thought we were bonding?" He pouted.

"You didn't answer my question you know. What on earth were you trying to achieve?"

"momoms."

"Sorry, what did you just say? It sounded like 'Om noms'."

"Noodles! Okay? I was making ready noodles!"

Silence.

And then Keith was laughing, throwing his head back, shoulders shaking. His grin stretched out along his face and tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes.

Lance legitimately stopped breathing.

 

//

 

Keith wiped a tear from to corner of his eye, laughter slowing down but grin remaining. He turned to Lance and their eyes met. Keith was startled by the blush glowing through Lance's cheeks.

"Wow..." Mumbled Keith,

Lance's eyes widened, "What?"

Keith looked down, "Nothing! I just, I was wondering how you managed to mess up that badly." He looked back up, smiling, staring right into Lance's heart.

Suddenly, Lance remember, "Oh my God! You just offered to fix my microwave! I have to pay you back, not only that but you came to help me. What can I give you?" He hurriedly stood from his chair, Keith flinching at the sudden movement and the screech of the stool.

"Oh, uh, that's not necessary. I kinda broke your door down to so... I can fix that to, I get that done today if you'd like?" 

Lance turned back to Keith and, grabbing the back of his own, now vacant chair, he yanked it back out and flopped back on to it dramatically. "Duuuude," he dragged out, "you have to stop doing these lovely things for me. I'm feeling like your bride-to-be."

Keith choked on his tongue a little bit.

Lance glanced up, "I mean... I wouldn't mind..." He winked at a slowly-reddening Keith.

"Well," Keith started, nervously fiddling with his fingers, "If you really want to, you can thank me by, uh, going on a date with... Me?" He said slowly, thinking over every word. "I mean, you don't have to, obviously, but if you wanted some proper noodles there's this really nice, traditional Chinese restaurant in the centre of town... As I said, you don't have to, I just uh- I'm, I'd, yeah."He finished spectacularly, metally kicking himself in the shins and pinching the skin of his hand where it sat in his lap. (A bad habit of his when he felt he hadn't done well.)

"Are you kidding?"

Keith flinched at the response, dread and regret filling him to the brim. Still he managed to look up, pleasantly surprised at Lance's overjoyed expression. "Umm...no?"

Lance laughed, it wasn't teasing or mocking, it was delighted, "Damnit dude! You beat me to it!"

Keith head shot up, a similar expression of nervous excitement painting his face.

"Uh, neat."  
He nearly slapped himself. Luckily Lance apparently hadn't heard, too busy laughing, but now he turned back just in time to hear Keith's second attempt in muttering, "Um, cool, right... Sooo, this Wednesday okay? I'll need to book a reservation."

Lance nodded, still smiling, "Sounds great, oooohhh! Reservations. Fancy~." He giggled as Keith stood, he snorted at Lance's exaggerated voice on their way to the door.

 

//

 

"Um, okay..." Lance was the first to speak up since reaching the hallway.

The boys looked down at the collapsed door.  
Keith glanced nervously at Lance, deeply regretting his haste to enter the building.

"I can fix it." He blurted, "Right now if you want... I can just run home and get my tool box, and uh," he glanced down at his toes, "maybe some shoes."

Lance giggled, "Okay sure, that would be great. I'll go get drinks for us and I'll come sit with you."

Keith flushed, "You don't have to," then his smirk became teasing, "Just want to oggle the big, strong repair man?"

Lance smiled, "Well, not gonna lie, it's already kind of hot how you busted your way into my house at the first sign of danger, not even bothering to put on shoes. Or a shirt for that matter." He turned on his heel, leaving Keith stranded, stood like a lemon. "See you in five!"

Keith mumbled something that might've been 'Goodbye' and hurried out of the house house. Once he got inside, he slammed the door and stood there for a few minutes, catching his breath.

"Oh my God. He thinks I'm hot."

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to leave it at that for now but I might continue this fic later :)


End file.
